


Five times Barney felt safe

by The_night_max



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: M/M, Marriage, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_night_max/pseuds/The_night_max
Summary: A five times fic. Five points in Barney Stinson's life, connected to each other but nothing else.**updated** All FIVE now done! Yay, go me, I finished something!





	

Six

He’s six-years old and his mom is out with a guy who picked her up in a car with a shuddering bass growl that had made Barney run over to the window and duck his head under the curtain. He was still there, fingertips on the condensation-wet glass, when he heard the click and jingle of keys and his mom calling ‘bye boys, be good’. Then there was the slam and shake of the front door and Barney and James were alone, a gameshow droning over the quiet.

They didn’t call the guy who picked her up uncle yet, which usually meant his mom wouldn’t bring him home later, but might mean she wasn’t back til the morning. 

Barney didn’t like it when he and James were alone at night. He got frightened by noises and the dark. He’d think about every scary story he’d read, that time he watched The Shining and all the frightening lurking things that are his alone. Without the protection of his mom, the things leak out and crowd into all the unlit corners and doorways of the house. They hide there breathing and waiting; he feels them watching him when he’s trying to sleep. They are behind every closed door and under his bed, and they peer from the night outside into the windows. He’s never seen them but he will if he looks out there for too long. 

Once, he’d woken up in the night desperately needing to go to the bathroom, but he just knew that this was the night the lurking things were particularly hungry and he could feel them waiting to grip his ankle tight and snatch him to them. When his mom got back, she’d stripped his sheets and said: ‘Oh Barney, you’re getting too old for this sweetie’ and he’d been ashamed and mad at her. 

So now, whenever she’s gone, after he and James finally give up on tv and go to bed he slips out of his room, sprints over the pile carpet and in a single movement, shoves open his mom’s door and flings himself onto her bed. There, he nestles under the sheets and comforter where it smells just like her – sharp perfume and lavender body lotion and menthol cigarettes. If he pulls the covers right up over his head and concentrates really hard on imagining his mom is right there next to him, he’s able to fall sleep and stay that way until morning.

 

Twenty-five

He kisses another man for the first time and he knows for sure, finally, that this is the thing he has needed. It happens at a corporate event, when corporate events are still a novelty to him. Ostensibly, it’s to mark the company he works for succeeding in a hostile takeover of another company, but really it’s just an excuse to drop tens of thousands on alcohol and catering and use it as a tax write-off.

Barney has occasionally seen the man in elevators or the bathroom or staff briefings and he thinks he senses, even though they’ve never spoken, that he’s attracted to Barney. When it turns out they’re seated next to each other and the guy – Thomas – smiles in recognition as Barney sits down, he’s sure. Barney returns the smile, holding it just long enough to make it clear it’s mutual.

Throughout the dinner they get steadily drunker and they flirt, subtly. Barney’s heart keeps racing at the thought of finally actually doing this, maybe; something soars high and free and thrilling inside him when he thinks about it.

It’s late and the others have left their table when Thomas comes back from the bar with a bottle of champagne and fresh glasses. 

“Do you fancy drinking this on the roof? I hear the view is sensational”

The roof is bright with the blurry white snow-static of swathes of fairy lights and the city below sounds distant. Nobody else is up there. There’s a waist-height wall around the edge and Thomas uses it to pour the champagne, holding his glass to clink Barney’s.

“To tonight; what’s been and what’s still to come” he says, and pauses with their glasses touching, giving Barney a long look, which is all quiet, confident seduction. They drink the champagne and lean forward over the wall, out into the city and the cool night. 

It happens not long after that. Barney’s attention has slipped – he’s thinking about this, how much he wants it to happen, and how he’s afraid of wanting it. He’s interrupted by Thomas very gently taking the champagne glass from his hand and setting it down. Still gentle, like he thinks Barney might startle and run, he puts his hands on Barney’s waist and pulls their bodies together.

And that’s it. Thomas moves in and Barney tilts his head in anticipation and then it’s happening. Barney hasn’t been held like this before, it feels solid and safe and incredibly hot. Thomas kisses firm, deep and languid, one hand running up Barney’s neck, fingertips featherlight over the short hairs at the nape of his neck, the other hand not moving from the small of his back, keeping them pressed together. Thomas is taller and stronger and Barney discovers he’s incredibly turned on by not being in control.

It’s only a kiss, but it’s enough to answer Barney’s big frightening question about himself and he’s happy with the answer. Something in him that’s been on-edge for as long as he can remember relaxes. 

 

 

Thirty-one

He’s 31, and it’s the night that he meets his father’s family and he finds out that it wasn’t that Jerome didn’t want a family, he just didn’t want Barney. Almost worse than the rejection and feeling so keenly like he’d failed, as a child, as an adult, was feeling his friends’ pity. The scales have fallen away and Barney can’t pretend to himself or anyone else that he’s anything other than someone who isn’t good enough to be loved.

He’s standing in Ted’s tragic shell of a home, the relevance of this place that represents Ted’s desperation for a family not lost on him, when he hears the front door open. He tries to prepare himself for when his friends come in and say placating things to him. Tries to find the words which will truly convince them he doesn’t care.

It’s not the group, though, it’s just Ted. Barney doesn’t turn around but he knows from the footsteps it’s him. He still hasn’t thought of the magic thing to say when Ted’s fingers close softly round his wrist and Barney finds himself pulled gently into Ted. This can’t happen, he thinks, as Ted’s arms wrap around him, one at his waist, the other his shoulders and neck. Ted can’t know, on top of everything else, how painfully Barney needs this. But when he tries to pull back and starts to say that he’s fine, Ted holds him tighter. Ted probably thinks he’s holding Barney together, but in reality this is what’s going to make him come apart. He feels the final thread start to pull loose and unravel as Ted squeezes him and places a comforting kiss on his temple. 

“I’m here. I’ll always be here. I love you Barney”, he says, and the quiet unpicking abruptly becomes a brutal rending apart.

He still cares that Ted can see he’s crying – can feel his body shaking, hear his quiet sobs and ragged breaths – but he’s past the point of being able to stop. He’s not sure how long he cries. Ted never shushes him, doesn’t tell him it’s ok, just holds him.

When he stops, feeling tired and broken and fragile, Ted kisses him again, just at the corner of his mouth this time.

“I love you”, he repeats.  
“How do you know?” Barney manages, his voice unsteady and raw.  
Later, Ted will say he was petrified, but he seems utterly calm and assured when he kisses Barney – really kisses him this time, lips on lips and gently pushing into Barney’s mouth, soft and wet and deep – then pulls back and says:  
“I’ve tried and tried to picture my family in this house. Tried to picture a wife. Tried to see the thing I’ve always thought I wanted. I can’t do it, nothing comes. What I do picture is you. Every time. I see you and me here in this room, or out on the deck. Making dinner. I used to tell myself it was because you’re my best friend and my brain was putting you in there as a consolation prize, you know? Like, whatever happens, Barney will be there. But that’s not what it is. You’re there because I think about my future Barney and it’s you. That’s how I know”.

Thirty-three

He’s 33 and it’s the night before his wedding. He and Ted have been for a dinner with their friends and families. His dad had come and talked about how he’d got to know Barney over the past two years; how much he’d come to love him and Ted and how his biggest regret was abandoning his son. His mom talked tearfully about how much she adored her baby, and how from the first time she met Ted, she’d known she could trust him to take care of Barney. She’d said how lucky she felt to have two wonderful sons. Marshall had said that Lily had known all along; that he hadn’t believed her but that he’d never been happier to be wrong. 

It had been a truly magical evening, soaked in soft candlelight and champagne and Barney had felt lucky and loved and excited. He’s home now, in his old apartment, although this place stopped really being his home a long time ago. Home is Ted and the unfinished house where they’re planning a future and falling asleep every night knowing Ted will be there, pressed against him, when he wakes up. 

He thinks about only being with Ted for the rest of his life, only sleeping with Ted, never feeling that rich exhilaration of kissing someone for the first time, and there’s no fear there.

Sometimes though, he worries about being enough for Ted. Ted’s expectations are so high. Barney won’t cheat, he won’t fall out of love with Ted, he knows that in his bones. But Ted is ever the architect and he’s as meticulous and precise when he plans his emotional and romantic future as when he drafts blueprints for a building. He’s already made one seismic shift in switching from the woman he’d spent years perfecting in every daydream to a man he’d never once imagined. Barney is sure Ted won’t accept any more compromises or even minor adjustments. He worries he’ll fall short in some other way; as a provider, as a husband, as a father. He’s scared he just won’t know how to do it, any of it, the big stuff and the mundane day-to-day. He might miss the small signs of Ted’s unhappiness, put his own career first, not know the right things to say when Ted loses a parent. Can he step up if Ted gets sick? Not flu or a stomach virus. Really sick. Or what if Ted cheats? What if Barney does everything right and life still ends up falling short for Ted and he goes searching for the ultimate soaring high of firsts and falling and sheer excitement?

The fear builds in Barney and makes a hot, tight knot in his stomach. He sits on the balcony where once upon a time he’d seduced so many strangers, not taking enough time over his tumbler of single malt, licking thick and peaty over ice. 

Taking slow breaths, he thinks back to the last time he was this scared. He and Ted had decided to tell their friends, all together over dinner at Ted’s. It was two hours before and he’s slipped into MacLarens to try and get drunk enough to feel calmer but not enough for it to be noticeable. He was at the bar, trying to control the tremor that ran right through his stomach and out into his limbs when Lily appeared next to him.

He hadn’t meant to tell her, but she’d looked at him with such soft, genuine concern and said: “Barney sweetie, what’s wrong?” It had all spilled out, absolutely everything. Not just their relationship, but Barney’s total conviction he wasn’t good enough and that the rest of their little group would agree.

Lily had wrapped an arm tight around his waist, snuggled in and used her other hand to hold his.

“Barney,” she’d said, gentle and calm and sweet, “Honestly, there will be times you do fall short. There will be times Ted does. That’s marriage. That’s life. But the fact that you’re thinking about this, that it scares you; that’s how you know you’ll work it out. When you stop caring? That when you need to be scared”.

In the present, replaying Lily’s words, he feels the ball in his stomach uncoil. He takes more slow breaths and thinks about how Ted will look in his tux tomorrow, thinks about kissing him as his husband for the first time, and his stomach tightens in a completely different way.

Thirty-five

He’s 35 and waiting in an eyeball-searingly bright hospital corridor on a chair so uncomfortable he’s not sure he’ll ever feel his ass again. He is alone and he feels it keenly. Ted is shut away from him in a room full of doctors and nurses, machines and tools, brisk activity and quiet precision. He’s been waiting for hours here, but the real waiting started months and months ago. He can’t remember what it felt like for this not to always be there in his consciousness, for it not to be his first and last thought every day, not to be the thing that made everything else secondary. 

Barney is so tired, his head is pounding behind his eyes, tight and heavy with tension. He is desperate for someone to come out of that room and give him news; tell him everything is ok. He’s exhausted from forcing himself to stay in control, from holding it together, from not having anyone to talk to but the medical staff, who are kind and polite but don’t ask him the right questions or say the right things.

He had offers from everyone he loves to be here with him for this but he’d said no, anxious about feeling like he had to pretend to be calm and coping on top of everything else. They’re in touch all the time by phone, not asking for updates but telling him they’re thinking of him, they love him, it will be done soon.

He must have somehow fallen asleep or maybe just deeply zoned out, because he suddenly realises there’s a nurse next to him who’s touching him lightly on the shoulder and saying ‘Mr Stinson?’. Barney meets his eyes and the nurse smiles. ‘Come with me he says’, and his tone makes something in Barney’s stomach that has been clenched hot and tight start to unwind just a little. He follows the guy, whose blue scrubs have something on the front of them that he doesn’t want to think about. He’s wearing scrubs too and he feels sweaty and rumpled beneath them.

The nurse pushes open the door and there, finally, is Ted. He’s sitting, looking dazed and drained but completely, overwhelmingly happy. They look at each other and Ted gives a tiny, joyful, bewildered nod. Everything that was holding Barney together unravels in a powerful wave of relief, and the deepest, bone-searing love he’s ever felt. He’s crying as he goes to Ted and gathers his husband and his child into his arms.

Barney has imagined this moment over and over again, so much that he’d worried it wouldn’t be as monumental as he was imagining. He’d read about parents not feeling that instant rush of love and he’d worried that would be him. He’d worried their tiny embryo wouldn’t turn into a baby, that there would be nothing on the scan at six weeks, at 12, at 20, at 28. He’d worried that when the labour became complicated and there were more and more doctors and nurses and midwives that all this would be for nothing, and there wouldn’t be a baby. He’d worried and worried and worried.

But now, he’s holding a tiny, tiny brand new bundle of fresh, pink, beautiful life. The baby – his baby – is swaddled tightly in a hospital blanket, a white cotton hat and a soft blanket and its little warm body is everything in the world to Barney. He knows the worry doesn’t go away now, knows it only changes and grows, but for now it is resting and letting him just feel this.

There’s a space where the hospital bed holding their surrogate, who brought their child into the world, has been moved to another room. It was what the three of them had agreed and the woman a calm, intelligent, thoughtful mom to three of her own kids, had said this was what she’d done before. Theirs was the third baby she’d carried for someone else. Her last. 

Barney had planned to be in the delivery room, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t. The anxiety, seeing Etta the surrogate’s raw pain, the blood, the needles, the noises of the machines. It was too much. Seeing him quietly starting to lose it, Ted had gently led him out of the room.

“It’s ok. Just wait here. Read, watch tv, eat, do anything to distract yourself, ok? It’s going to be alright Barney. Our baby’s almost here. I love you”, and he’d kissed him quick and soft before going back into the room.

The moment feels like it happened days ago, to someone else. Recalling it, Barney realises something with a jolt of surprise. He looks down at the baby, then at Ted.

“I can’t believe I forgot; did we get a boy or a girl?” he says.

Ted grins, stands up and puts his arms around them both.

“We got a little girl” he whispers. “She’s a girl. We have a daughter”.


End file.
